1963-11-06 - The Blow Up
Summary: What means to be a dinner between friends; Jean blows up and ruins everything.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
moira logan lorna jean 


"Logan." Jean shakes the sleeping man.
"LOGAN!" She shakes him again. "Come on, we're going out."

If Logan said something or even tried to, it would be met with a few bzztbzzt words much to his annoyance. Then, it probably would have started an argument, one that could probably be heard across the lawns and well into the Institute and chances are, there would have been a growl and someone would have broken a glass.

Chances are, that argument stemmed from the dress code she enforced. Jean Grey; the bossy little wench of the X-Men was taking no prisoners, she was determined for Logan to wear the penguin suit..



Rousing Moira and sending word to Lorna was easy enough. The table was already picked out which has them sitting in a corner, shadowy booth. It was Logan's preference, after all. Just so that he could watch the windows and the exits as he would, with Jean by his side to mimic that same choosing. She too, was attempting to learn all points of ingress/egress and drawing up various routes and scenarios for his approval while they wait. The napkin was riddled with X's and O's, and hyperactive all too nutty and somewhat calm Jean was practically talking his ear off.

"So okay, what if the bad guys were already here?" She draws on a new napkin. "And we're here.." She draws out little stick figures, "..and exits are here but they're all covered.." she continually scribbles, knowing darn well her art was better than this but, no time! "..Now, Moira.. goes here.." she draws little dashes… "And you go here.." More dashes.. "..and Lorna. You'll like her by the way, she's cute. Too young for you but cute regardless.. goes here.." dot-dot-dot..


Logan just stares at Jean through most of it. The little redhead was doing her best to run his life lately, between dressing him up and dragging him to restaurants to handing out his phone number for random women to come by.

"Yer all a little young for me," he points out, "And that's usually when I'd suggest just takin' a window out and making them come out to get me…"

He sees the others arrive, nodding to Moira first, since he knows her, "Doc."


Moira doesn't get out much, especially still working under cover with Weapon-X, she's had to be doubly careful about where she goes and who she's seen with. So, she's ended up getting to the restaurant in a coat that isn't generally her own, scarf around her head and a pair of fairly ridiculous large glasses. Undercover, clearly! But, now that she's inside and fairly certain she's not being followed, she pulls off those glasses and the scarf, shoving them both into her pocket as she approaches the table with a warm, if worried, smile.

She was always worried these days. Especially about Jean.

"Logan. Jean. This… seemed a lovely idea, really. Thank you for arranging it." She murmurs warmly, even if she can't hide the concern from her voice. She slips out of her jacket and settles in, not caring if her back is to anything. She doesn't have near Logan's paranoia.


Lorna entered soon after Moira, looking wide eyed and surprised at the resturant and the invitation. Her brown hair pulled back by a shiny blue ribbon, that matched the high waisted skirt she wore and white button up shirt and sweater. She took off her Frost Institute jacket as she entered, green eyes scanning the room before she spotted Jean and smiled with a nervous, anxious energy.

As she approached she pushed a stray strand of brown hair behind an ear, taking the last available seat at the table.

"Hi Jean.. erm.." She glanced at Moira and then Logan, vaguely remembering them from her visit to the Xavier Institute after the museum incident.

"Hi.." She offered lamely, reaching up to rub at her neck briegly as she settled into the chair, putting her jacket on the back. "I'm sorry, I'm terrible with names.." She flushed pink.


"Well. I can't fly. Much." Jean says, resigned to the fate of not fighting but allowing Logan to do all of the work. "But you know, thanks for ruining my happy thoughts." Violent, much? With the Phoenix tempered in her little cabin for now, Jean was feeling the after effects. Effects that make her want to get out and smash someones face in, effects that make her want to rip and roar until she was tired. Residuals of many that she's hung around slowly oozing their way out of their skin.

Which has her picking up a butter knife, and lightly jamming it into Logan's side to hold him hostage. From what? No one knows!

As Moira approaches, Jean gets all doe eyed, her green eyes large and near sparkling as she waits until the woman sits. "I haven't seen you in -so- long.." She says wistfully. "But.. I .. you're welcome! Yes! I wanted to try something fancy. So I compelled everyone here and told them that we're eating everything for free and they better be -nice-." Creepy. "They're going to be so nice!"

As Lorna arrives, nervous energy abound, it somewhat makes Jean giggle. Giggle in that nervous way as the butter knife was jammed further into Logan's side. He was going to be her abuse ball for tonight! "Lorna.. that's Miss Moira and Mr. Logan. I can -help- you remember. I really can." She grins ever so widely, the grin faltering as the waiter approaches, total penguin, cloth around his forearm as he addresses the obvious adults at the table.

"Senor, Madamoiselle.." He bows halfway, his accent thick. A cart was wheeled by him as he reaches for the most expensive bottle of wine, bowing as he present it to the two. "May I offer our finest.. chateu de.."

"They'll take it!" Jean blurts out.

The waiter stares at the young redhead, then carefully leaves the bottle atop of the table. "Your menus." He offers up a little nervously. "Please alert me when ze table is ready.."


Logan isn't entirely sure this is the kind of thing Chuck would approve of Jean using her powers for, but, honestly, he's done trying to police her. The brittle kind of happy she was managing was better than the morose she'd been dealing with the most lately. He doesn't even mind the knife much - he'd suffered a hell of a lot worse.

"Yeah, yer the girl that gave ol' Magneto the funnies," he says. "Hopefully he ain't around here, I don't need the headache that comes with you two in a room," he says.

"Menu ain't hard for me. Steak and potatoes, no need to get complicated with it."


The almost manic nature of Jean's emotions, not to mention her commenting about the staff being so nice and dinner being free? It just deepens the concern in Moira's eyes. She clears her throat slightly, "Jean, I can cover dinner, that is perfectly fine. No need to… pressure the staff." Moira states firmly. She's been away too long, focusing on people who maybe didn't need her as much as those close to home. Her lips are tempered with a quiet frown, pale eyes flickering between Jean and Logan, as if to ask the man if she's been like this a while? But Moira isn't rude enough to voice those words. Instead, she takes a deep breath and resets her smile as Lorna approaches.

"Lorna! It is…very good to see you again. I was hoping you'd call, come by, after that… stressful night, but we never heard from you again. Has all been well? With… everything, you know?" Her powers, her control, all the things that aren't safe to talk about in public but Moira's gotten good at the subtle implications.


Lorna fidgets, her brows drawing high at Jean's behavior, confusion etched upon her expression and her mind quite clearly. "Uhm I-I can't drink yet.. I'm only.. 18.." She mumbled faintly, eyeing the wine on the table. Her confusion only increased at Logan's comments and it took her a long time to process what it meant. "Uhm, you mean Mister Lensherr?" She tilted her head, biting her lower lip.

"Uhm… It's nice to see you again Miss Moira.. Mister Logan.." She paused, glancing toward Moira as the woman addressed her, her hands folding on her lap carefully.

"I actually.. uh… well, I went to the Institute.. but uhm.. I.. I wasn't supposed to. I was rather upset and Mister Lensherr drove me back to the Frost Institute." Never mind that she'd been upset and crying over the fact that she was adopted and had just found out..


Jean takes a moment…
..and then another..

"Professor Lensherr isn't around." Beat. "I looked." Another pause. "Some guy in the corner is getting sick."

Sure enough, a man stands up from his booth, quietly offering apologies before he dashes off towards the restroom.

With a little shrug of her shoulders, Jean flags down another passerby, who stops, looks, with the intent of moving on but with a harsh snap of her fingers, he turns and approaches, bowing slightly. 'Madamoiselle?'

"Can we have a pitcher of ice water please?"

He bows once more, then scurries off.

Now Jean settles into the conversation at hand, her own hand lifting to rest her chin upon, eyes flitting towards one after the other, nearly dismissing Moira's offer to pay. For the waiter who was on standby quickly scribbles down Logan's order, addressing him quietly.

"Sir, might I suggest a finely, thick cut ribeye, soaked in our finest house burbon. Potatoes, mashed, decorated with chives and a tin of gravy, which would go delectably with our house cut vegetables and a small side of calamari.."

"What the hell is Calamari?" Jean leans in to whisper, then leans back.

Finally, "No Moira. It's all on me! Trust me. It's going to be great. And.." She now addresses the waiter. "I want the same thing!" Yay! Jean's finally going to eat!

Jean neverminds Lorna and her mention of not drinking, surely Jean could drink too but! Water is better. Water is life. It's what makes life worth living. "It's okay Lorna. I'm having water. You'll have water too, won't you?" And then she hushes, finally removing the butter knife from Logan's side to give him a little bit of relief, swaying just a little from side to side. It was a comforting tactic, even as she watches her three dinner mates fuss over Lorna and her abilities. At least her swaying is helping her to not pry to see what Lorna was thinking.. the girl projects like no ones business!


Logan is a fine poker player in regards to reading his expression, asking for a beer to go with the food. That seems like a safe bet, that he's gonna want a beer, one way or another, around this particular mess. He loosens his tie a bit and leans back in his seat, considering.

"Calamari's squid, darlin'. Little fried ones, usually," he says.

"Is Mags gone? I ain't seen him since I last saw this one, but he tends to come an' go," he says. "So, why does someone want you to stay away from the school? Seems like a strange sorta thing, don't nobody there bite. Well, almost nobody."


The redhead's antics are worrying Moira even more, her brows knitting slightly deeper, but she's trying to keep a smile in place. This was not the place or time to push it. At least she was eating and out, Moira would have to accept those as good things. She nods in affirmation to Logan's explanation of calamari. "It's pretty good, you should try it…" And when the waiter is finally looking in Moira's direction, the doctor gives a more polite, apologetic smile. "Ah…I'll just have the salmon, please, with a side of the twice baked potato. Thank you." She hands over a menu, painfully polite, as often.

Then her pale eyes flicker back to Lorna, more concern crossing through them at the comment about her not supposed to be there. "Indeed… the school is a safe space for… different people. It's probably one of the safest spaces in the city right now, all things considered. WHy couldn't you visit? You know you are always welcome. We meant it when we said that."


Lorna hung her head, averting her gaze as she chewed on her lower lip. "My teacher, uhm.. well.." She glanced to Jean and then to Logan and Moira in turn.

"Mister Lensherr and her both agreed that I should be staying at the Frost Institute and let her handle things. I was implusive and she had things in hand and I just.." She sighed heavily.

"Since things happened before… after the museum, well, I found out that I was adopted. And uhm well, it was.. I was.. am.. er.. I was adopted from Poland and apparerntly Mister Lensherr is too?" She tilted her head to the side as she spoke, fidgeting in her seat.

"And Miss Frost was going to order a blood test done to see.. and well Mister Lensherr was helping me some with teaching me too.. but both of them agreed that I shouldn't go off like that.." She fidgeted again. Babbling.

When the server turned his attention to her she shrugged weakly, "Uhm.. uhh I guess.. I dunno. A salad?"


Clarifying: Mister Lensherr is from Poland too*


"Oh.." Jean says quietly. Continuing her little rock from side to side to remain quiet and calm as the three speak.

To Logan.. "No, I meant that he's not here. In the restaurant.." Her range wasn't that far, not just yet. Though as Lorna begins to tell the story, Jean wisely keeps her thoughts to herself, her lips pursing into a slight frown as she murmurs quietly once again. "Well, at least they're working together.." Which was nice!

The waiter then jots down all of the orders, leaving the cart of wine next to the table, his head held high as he glides off of the floor to deliver the order, only to return to flit about the tables like a butterfly. Tending to water.. wines..


Logan shrugs, "I dunno, yer a grown-up, seems to me y ou can go where ya like. Did they actually give you a reason, or was it just some 'cause I said so BS? Don't get me wrong, I dunno this other lady at all an' Mags has always been all right. But he's also a little flamin' bossy," he says. "Just sayin', only you're the boss o' you."

He reaches into his pocket and draws out a cigar, lighting it carefully as he sits back.


"I…do believe that Mr. Logan here has a point. You are an adult, are you not? But…I understand if you've put your trust in these people and do not wish to press the matter. I still think a blood test… would not be a poor choice. If you don't wish to range far to have it done, or have strangers handle it… I could do it for you and Mr. Lensherr. I've made him the same offer." Apparently, Moira was already aware of the suspicions. Hell, she might have been one of those who brought them up. She gives a reassuring sort of smile as she says that, trying not to be pressuring but simply as gently supportive as possible.

"And, Jean…how are you feeling now? Better? You…are looking a touch better, but… you know you can always find my room if you wish to talk. If I'm home, my door is open to you, any time…" SHe offers that a bit more quietly, trying to keep the strange redhead calm.


Another fidget, and Lorna bit her lower lip. "He might be related to me.. like as in my father related to me. In which case I'd say that Mister Lensherr has a pretty fair position to suggest what I should or shouldn't do.. and my teacher.. she's just worried about my safety. She wants me to trust her and that she can help. And I do! It's just.." She sighed, looking down at her hands as she picked at her sleeves.

"I just want to know or not. I mean.. I don't even know how I feel if I am! It's like.. I lost who I thought I was.. granted my adoptive parents love me and all.. but.." She sighed, reaching up and running her hands over face. "Whoever I thought I was.. how long I refused to even consider what I /could/ do.. it.. it's hard." She grumbled.

"And then all this with Mister Lensherr? I mean.. if he is my father, or even just a relative..? I don't even know how to feel about it. He's been really nice and tried to be there.." She grimaced, and bit at her lower lip. "For all I know my parents were killed in the war in Poland and I don't /have/ any idea who I was, when I was born.. nothing.. Going from knowing everything and thinking I know where I belong… it's hard." She was babbling again, her concerns just bubbling forth like a spring. Once she started it was difficult to stop. Even if she didn't /know/ any of the people seated at the table well enough to really share, she did.


All the while, the hustle and bustle of the restaurant is what had Jean's attention. Though it wasn't until the cigar smoke clouded her vision, her hand snaps out and tugs it clean out of Logan's lips, dipping the lit end of the cigar into the water to put it out.. and leave it there to soak. Rude!

"That was rude." She says quietly, leaning back into her chair, her eyes nearly vacant as the conversation swirls around her. Her fingers dig into her hair, twirling her fingers in circles, tugging her curled hair around her digits as she snatches a clear tuft out. There was little bulbs upon the edge of her hair, and she seems almost nonplussed when it happens.

Her eyes closer for a moment, batting away that face. That white face.. with the red eyes… darkness.. birds..

Jean snaps out of those thoughts once she hears her name, her brows lowering into a clear fit of anger. "Oh shut up, Moira." She snaps. "All of you."

"Mee.. mee.. mee! I think he's my father! Oh no! What ever shall I do? Grow. The hell. Up! So you have someone to relate to you finally, Lorna! Yippie! Am I right? You have someone to -bond- with." She slowly begins to clap, her head shaking as she regards the young lady with.. nothingness. There was nothing there. Suck it up, buttercup. You're the 1% who's fucking lucky in this world."

And with a clear look cast towards Moira, she just shakes her head. "And don't. Just -don't-. All you want to do is talk. Talk talk talk, fucking -talk-. WHERE in gods name is that getting us? Huh? I'm still the fucked up little red-headed bastard child of the institute who's attempting to find her way through life. It did NOTHING. So.. shut the fuck up. Just SHUT it with your offer to talk. I don't want to talk anymore. I'm done. I'm -fucking- done." And now Logan. Sweet, sweet Logan.

"And fuck you too, old man. He who liberates young girls all across the nation! That peppy talk bullshit is for the birds.."

And as the waiter approaches, there was a look of hesitation in his face. He almost wants to run, to turn around and keep the food hot until the confrontation is done. But Jean points.

"Set the food down. And scram." And to the rest of them? "You're ruining what was supposed to be a happy moment with this sappy sunday school church going 'You can do it' bullshit! Shut the fuck up and eat your goddamned food!"


Logan tries to remind himself that Jean's not well. That she's dealing with some shit and he doesn't really understand everything that's going on in her head. That she's just a damn kid and one who's been through hell a few times over.


He barely represses a snarl when she yanks away his stogie and then she's going to talk shit to everyone else, with him left for last. Nothing she says really hurts his feelings - he's not that sensitive and she won't say anything he hasn't thought about himself or worse.

"Kid, you work awful damn hard to try an' make sure you got nobody left to look out for ya. Scuse me, I'm gonna go outside a moment and smoke my damn cigar in peace," he says, pushing up from the table.


The sudden, angry rant from Jean is met with that concerned smile just melting away into a neutral line of lips. Moira knows its not the young woman, knows she's not well feeling, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. She takes in a slower breath, leaning forward and trying to reach a hand out for Jean, even if she knows it probably won't be taken. "Jean…you… don't mean what you are saying. And I know talking doesn't always help. But you aren't alone either. I… I can start researching other… other things to help. There are several new psychological techniques… I'll speak with Charles. We can figure something out. But you *aren't* going through this alone, so stop trying to push people away. It won't help."

THen Moira looks over to Lorna, giving a faint, apologetic smile to the other young woman, a hint of embarrassment behind her pale eyes at the situation. "Lorna, I'm sorry. Jean has been… going through a lot of awful things. I know everyone has, but…everyone also has different ways of dealing with it."


Lorna had no idea what exactly had been wrong with Jean. Had no concept that something was even wrong with the telepath in the first place. She was unprepared for the vitrol aimed her way and had no idea how to handle it. She stared, mouth agape for several long moments. The language and venom was opposite to the bubbly, nice woman she'd made friends with in the library, and for a long moment, Lorna was convinced that it was all just a joke, a misunderstanding.

And then Logan and Moira responded and then it all hit home and tears sprung to Lorna's eyes. She was that sensitive. She was that weak skinned. Especially in regards to who she was these days.

And, regardless on whether or not she was Erik Lensherr, Mags, Magneto's daughter or not. She certainly had the same powers he did… and none of the control. As the tears sprung up to her eyes, and she sniffled, all the metal in the room rattled. The sliverware on the table jumped as if someone had kicked the table and the overhead lights swung lightly from the delicate chains they hung from.

"I'm sorry!" She broke out, sniffling and rubbing at her eyes. "I'm sorry!"


"Acht.." Jean reaches up towards Logan, attempting to corral him with the use of her telekineses to pull him back into his chair. "You don't get any peace, not tonight." Jean says sternly. "Now, you sit down, or I'll -make- you sit down." Which, she was already doing, but that was beside the point.

Even though Moira smiles, it clearly perturbs Jean. Part of her knew that she was lashing out due to what had happen a few days ago, but the other half, didn't really give a damn. "I don't?" She asks Moira then, her voice lowering. In fact, she was polite enough to wait until the waiter places the food upon the table and leaves with the rest of his entourage. With the steaming pile of food in front of her, Jean takes the time to take a bite of calamari, which.. oddly enough was good! Very good!

"Listen, Moira." Jean says matter-of-factly. "I know you want to do good in the world, I know you -want- to help. But you know -who- you could help? Logan. Let's take him for example, cause clearly he needs a good talking to more than I do."

She grins. "I mean, he's -always- alone, fishing or just drinking. It's clearly obvious he's still stewing about that shit-show of him selling parts of his fucking soul to some asshole demon that opened up the goddamned Hellmouth because of him. I mean, scores and scores of dead people, and we're not talking about the people he's killed whenever the hell that happened. We're talking about the demons, the vampires, and whatever else crawled up out of that shithole, KILLING people, all because he couldn't live a day with knowing that he's failed to protect me for five fucking minutes." She nods seriously at that.

"Five minutes. That's all it took. So go ahead Moira. COUNSEL him. He fucking needs it."

Yet, once Lorna begins to cry and apologize, Jean slowly rises from the table, the rattling metal was lifted higher into the air with her rising. "Lorna.." Jean says sternly. "You shut this shit down right now or I'll shut it down for you."


Logan doesn't speak. Doesn't react. Just sits.


Moira can handle being lectured and yelled at herself. She's had people say worse things on many levels. But, when Jean threatens to shut down Lorna's tears, and Lorna clearly isn't able to handle this nearly so well, her protective nature kicks in deep. Eyes widen and she sits up straighter, leaning forward at the table and staring hard into Jean's eyes.

"Jean. Stop this. *Now*. You invited Lorna here for a *nice* dinner… I don't know what has gotten into you, I don't know why you feel a need to be so cruel, but this is not you. Take a deep breath, focus, and try to get control. This isn't the young woman I know you are. So push it back. I will not let you threaten our guest."

And then she looks back to Lorna, reaching one hand in her direction, trying to offer some sort of counsel or gentle touch which might give the girl comfort, "Lorna, I am so sorry. It…it really isn't like that. Jean really is very unwell. Possibly we should all go somewhere less… Public. Get the food to go…"


Jean's continued rage, and venom does nothing to calm down Lorna. Much less the threat. If anything it makes the metal in the room shake all the more. A few guests seem to notice it this time, and a hushed whisper of confusion follows through the room. If the building itself seemed to give a groan, well, it wasn't in anyone imagination.

A hiccupp escapes Lorna as she struggles with her control, her eyes going wider as she finally notices what her powers were doing as Moira reached out a gentle hand to touch her softly. A sniffle followed and some of the trembling in the room slows, though it doesn't halt entirely. "S-Sorry." She whimpered, her eyes squeezing shut. "I'm.. I'm trying."

The metal in the immediate area stilled, but beyond the small pocket of their table it seemed to continue to shiver and shake. Even as Lorna struggled with halting the magnetic pull toward her.


With Logan quiet and the direction of her ire split into two, Jean was half ready to reach across the table to give Lorna a good shake. Why, her hand was even slowly lifting, at least until Moira finally snaps in her own, gentle way to give Jean a what-for. In fact, even if Moira was mild in her telling it still was a little shock to the system. And she promptly, sits down.

Score points for the Mom gene.

Jean doesn't even apologize. She just sits there, her eyes staring out to a space in between Moira and Lorna, finally lowering down towards her plate as she draws both hands to rest at the top of her forehead. She was hiding her eyes and most of her face with this gesture, though they could clearly see her jaw clench and unclench as she tries to at least.. erase her own memory of this night and a few others.

"Y..you all could go. No. Nevermind. Stay. I need to take a walk." She stands from the table, pushing her plate into the middle of the table so that they could do what they would. "Sorry." Was mumbled out, her chair pushed in as polite as anyone pleases.. ready to head out of the restaurant and to stick them with the tab if they were so inclined. If not! It'd be paid for already!


The pain that echoed up her knee and hip definitely relaxed a bit as Lorna manages to get some control of her powers, but pain is the least of Moira's worries right now. She still offers her hand to the scared girl trying to regain control. "Lorna, it's alright….just take a few, deep breaths. You have this. I know you do." She reassures the woman in her same, gentle, motherly tones that have been heard so many times before but still actually manage to be comforting. Probably because she does *actually* care, and that's such a rarity these days.

Then she's looking back to Jean, worry sitll creased behind her eyes, especially as Jean moves to take a walk. "Jean…you should stay. Please. I know it's… been hard. But having a nice… relaxing dinner would help. Take a breath. Sit. We… we can talk about more pleasant things. SOmething distracting for all of us. WE could probably use it."


Perhaps it was because Jean's mumbled apology, or perhaps because of Moira's comforting presence at her side—a soothing empathy that Lorna had so desperately needed and been wanting since Emma Frost had told her that she'd been adopted and lied to most of her life. That simply aching desire for someone that was gentle and motherly, and warm; perhaps that was all that Lorna needed to calm her racing heart and regain control of her breathing.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Hold it. Exhale slowly..

And as she concentrated on her breathing, the metal in the room stilled and Lorna sagged in her seat as her powers halted their shaking and jostling of the very building itself. Green eyes opened, still watery, but clear of panic now. And the young woman sniffled, rubbing her nose with her napkin, as she peered about at those at the table, her cheeks flushing pink.

"Sorry.." She ducked her head, biting her lower lip and picking at her finger nails. "I didn't mean to get so anxious and upset Jean." She added.


Jean lets out a slight grunt, hesitating as she finally pulls herself away from the table. "No.. no.." She finally comments, keeping her eyes away from those at the table, digging into a clutch that has now revealed itself since she was sitting. A few twenties were peeled from the inside of the purse, placed upon the table as she huffs quietly. "I lost my appetite. I.. think I'm going to go be alone for a while."

And with that said, Jean truly does rush out of the restaurant, completely embarrassed and totally feeling like an ass. This is how bullies felt afterwards, she thought. And it didn't really sit to well with her to begin with.


A gentle nod is given to Logan, "Logan…she…probably shouldn't be alone…" Moira coaches gently. Hopefully she can stay here and help gently manage Lorna while he follows after Jean. Whichever is his choice. Once she and Lorna are mostly alone, though, Moira shifts around the table to sit on the same side as the poor girl across from her. If Lorna doesn't pull away, she actually stretches one arm around the back of the young lady's shoulders and pulls her in a bit closer to lean against her. If Lorna needs a mom figure? Well, that's what Moira is better at than almost anything in the world.

"…Hey…Lorna… It's alright. You're alright to be anxious and upset. I know a lot of things are changing and Jean is… she doesn't know what she's saying either. Everyone deals with their own pain differently. But I said you weren't alone the other week and I meant it… It's not just about being…Different. If you need someone to talk to about…all the changes. The things you've found out… what scares you… God, Lorna, you can call me for that *too*."


Oh did Lorna desperately crave the gentle warmth of a mother figure. Emma Frost was kind in her own fashion, but chillingly so. Never once offering so much of a hint of an embrace for comfort—the woman simply wasn't the sort. But Lorna had been raised to that gentleness and having adopted parents four hours or more away in Upstate New York did not make for an easy drive when one was upset with said parents.

So as Moira reaches over to wrap an arm around her shoulders Lorna turns into the hug, throwing her own arms around Moira and pressing her tear stained cheeks against the other woman's shoulder.

Between the tears, the fresh ones that had come to her eyes, Lorna sniffled out her response. "What's w-wrong with Jean? She-She wasn't like this b-before." She whimpered, rubbing at her eyes.

"And.. and I just.. I just don't know anything anymore.."


The woman's arm tightens a bit more around Lorna's shoulders, holding her closer. It's a gentle motion, but she starts a very slow rocking, back and forth, letting Lorna cry against her as long and hard as she wants. She turns her head up, pressing a few kisses against the girl's hair. "It's alright. It's alright to cry…or be scared, or overwhelmed. That's all alright, you know…" She reassures the girl. "Even if you can't come to the mansion, if you don't want to make someone upset, we can get tea elsewhere… Talk. You don't have to be alone."

Then the question comes about Jean and Moira shakes her head gently, "I…I don't really know, I think she went through something and it rattled around a lot in her head. But…we'll get her help too. I'm more worried about you…" ANd Moira will hold on, letting Lorna cry it out as long and hard as she needs. Food forgotten, other things forgotten. This was about letting a young woman cry and know she wasn't alone.


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